telling him I’d take the day to write and have something new for Miller tomorrow.
That had appeased him, both that I’m feeling creative and that I’m not leaving town.
Hours later, I’m stuck. This song had poured forth initially, angry, fresh lines of pain, but it needs resolution and I don’t have one. Not for the song, not for myself.
I look around the hotel room. That first trip out here, it’d seemed fancy—a sign that I was on my way, that I was going to make it big.
Now, it seems so temporary. Like everything else.
Nothing about this contract deal, this dream feels the way I thought it would. It’s not as awesome as I thought it’d be. It doesn’t feel exciting and happy. It feels . . .
Meaningless without Willow.
Fuck, I even miss my asshole brothers and the Bennetts. I miss nightly cornhole tournaments and Shayanne’s pot roast putting us on edge to figure out what she’s up to this time.
I look at the room service menu, searching for pot roast for even a small taste of home. But there’s nothing that unsophisticated on the list of dinner options. It’s all filet mignon and haricots verts. A quick Google search tells me that’s steak and green beans, so why don’t they just say so? Even room service isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
I let the boredom distract me, staring out the window at the lights for a while and watching some stupid television show where I don’t even know what’s happening.
I send Brutal a text.
Me: Hey asshole. You check the east pasture?
Brotherly talk for I miss you, are you okay doing your work and mine? It takes a long fifteen minutes for him to respond.
Brutal: Yep. East and did two rows on the southern end too.
Translation, I’m fine. You do what you need to because I’ve got you covered.
Me: Good work.
I love you.
Brutal: Head in the game, man.
I love you too.
I take his words and his meaning to heart. I have work to do and need to stay focused. This isn’t a done deal, for me or Jeremy. At any moment, he could decide that wining and dining me isn’t worth his time if I’m not signing that dotted line. So I’d better make sure he still wants me and all that I bring to the table.
I sit on the couch, pulling the coffee table over and re-reading the lyrics I’ve written so far. I pick up the pen, painfully ripping my soul open to let it pour onto the page.
Gave you everything, I was yours.
Took your heart because you were mine.
Standing in the tatters that you left behind,
I still love you.
“Holy shit, Bobby. That’s . . . Wow!” Miller breathes out with a wide smile.
The song is slow, plucked chords resonating around notes held until my voice breaks. Until I break.
Miller looks at Jeremy, who’s standing over him like a hawk. “We’ll do another take to be sure, but I think we got it in one.”
Jeremy laughs, jabbing the intercom button. “Goddamn, kid. I guess what they say is true . . . a broken heart is the best inspiration! You’re going to be a big hit. You’re the real deal, Bobby.”
“Play it back again. Let me hear it,” he tells Miller. I join them in the booth. The speakers are better in here.
The playback starts, and I hear myself, every note full of pain and heartbreak. Jeremy shakes his head. “Damn, that’s good. I can’t believe she actually did it. She didn’t seem strong enough, figured she’d be hanging on your coattails as long as she could.”
He laughs like he said something funny.
“What?”
I have no idea what Jeremy is talking about, but a stone has settled in my stomach. Something’s wrong, my instincts yell.
“The girl . . . what was her name? Willa? Winnie? The blonde with glasses.” He makes circles with his fingers, laying them over his eyes like glasses.
“Willow?” I growl. “When did you talk to her?”
Jeremy must sense the danger zone he’s stumbled into because he stammers, his smile fading quickly. “Uh, that first night I heard you play. She was behind the bar, and I asked her who you were.”
That rings false, even though I know that happened. There’s more, I can feel it in his need to back away from this conversation.
“And then?”
Jeremy finds his balls, tucked up somewhere in those khaki pants. “Well, you couldn’t very well expect me to let a talent like yours go without a fight. I came back